


cracks

by crowkag



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Character Study, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mass Effect 2, Medical Inaccuracies, Relationship Study, Self-Harm, Self-Worth Issues, author is gay and loves miranda lawson a lot, even though my depiction doesn't really show it, kind of to both lol, space is for the gays yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29667654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowkag/pseuds/crowkag
Summary: “We considered medi-gel at first,” Chakwas continued with a sniff, making a casual gesture downwards. “But most of the cuts were superficial. Just had to pull the shards out, really, and let your body do the rest.”Shepard nodded. Her fingers twitched against their confines as she tried to curl them into her palms. She imagined skin pulling, scabs stretching out. On her left, Miranda brought one leg up to cross over the other. On her right, Chakwas sniffed again.The tension was palpable, like the world freezing in that moment before a gunshot blast. Everything silent, dust particles halted, breaths lodged in throats. All it needed was a pull of the trigger, and—“That was stupid of you, Shepard.”—the flame would find its first bit of dry kindling.
Relationships: Karin Chakwas & Female Shepard, Miranda Lawson & Female Shepard
Kudos: 4





	cracks

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with the self-indulgent fanfictions that i know won't get as much attention as my other works but which i shall post anyways because i WANT TO. i love mass effect so fucking much and have missed it!!!! so here's hoping the legendary edition is all good and dandy bc im tired of bioware curbstomping my excitement :)
> 
> fic warnings for: medical imagery, drugs, a brief mention of needles, self-harm, and language. (this is me2 shepard post-lazarus where her facial scars are gone and i always imagined that it fucks with my shepard's self-image and identity, hence her punching a bathroom mirror. though i imagine the legendary edition will let facial scars carry across all 3 games, so potential goodbye to that specific bit of my shep's characterization)

She was aware of the lack of pain first, because moments ago, there’d been nothing _but_ pain. Split knuckles splattering blood into the seams of glass cracks. Bits of mirror sticking in her skin, blinding, sharp, but she couldn’t stop, she couldn’t stop, she couldn’t _stop, she couldn’t_ —

Then footsteps in her cabin, then rough hands around her biceps, then a needle stuck in her neck. Plunger pushed, eyes rolling back, a trembling “Sleep, commander. Go to sleep.”

That’d been then. Harsh metal, glaring lights. Cold. Fast breathing.

Now, it was scratchy sheets. The pinch of an IV line in the crook of her elbow.

And the lack of pain.

Shepard stared across the medbay at the shoulders of Dr. Chakwas. In her left periphery, she could see shiny thigh highs and a honeycomb pattern against white fabric. Bright blue eyes cast her a sharp, calculating look, leaving every movement up for scrutiny.

There’d be no satisfaction for Miranda Lawson to gain here. Even hopped up on painkillers, Shepard was certain of that.

“Chakwas,” she said. Croaked, more like. Her throat was dry, burning.

The doctor glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows pinched low. Sighing, she set down whatever vial she’d been examining in place of another, then came to Shepard's bedside and reached for the IV bag.

“Are you feeling any pain?”

Shepard watched Chakwas’s stiff fingers as they plugged the vial into the bag and made note of the tightness in the air. Not toward her, she knew. A certain Cerberus agent's presence just had the tendency to bring out the stress in people. She looked down at her own hands—both were wrapped securely in clean bandages—and shook her head.

“Nope.” Something weighty starting to surface in her gut, she made to flex her wrists, but the gauze kept them stiff.

“We considered medi-gel at first,” Chakwas continued with a sniff, making a casual gesture downwards. “But most of the cuts were superficial. Just had to pull the shards out, really, and let your body do the rest.”

Shepard nodded. Her fingers twitched against their confines as she tried to curl them into her palms. She imagined skin pulling, scabs stretching out. On her left, Miranda brought one leg up to cross over the other. On her right, Chakwas sniffed again.

The tension was palpable, like the world freezing in that moment before a gunshot blast. Everything silent, dust particles halted, breaths lodged in throats. All it needed was a pull of the trigger, and—

“That was stupid of you, Shepard.”

—the flame would find its first bit of dry kindling.

Miranda’s voice rang low, level, dangerous. It bounced on the white walls and struck into the linoleum.

“I’ve already reported the incident back to the Illusive Man. He brushed it off. I, however, cannot. Being your XO.”

Chakwas gave a sound like a huff as she finished checking the IV and moved to type vitals on a tablet, though Shepard had known the doctor long enough to make the noise out for what it really was. A _laugh_ , open and disbelieving, and it made her smile down at her sheets. Only just.

Miranda clearly wasn't amused. She narrowed her eyes and leant forward, sparing a glance at Chakwas before putting all of her ice-cold weight straight back on Shepard.

“Have you taken a moment to consider _just_ how much stock was placed in Project Lazarus? How many sleepless nights? Resources, staff, credits?”

“Sleepless nights?” Chakwas interrupted with a scoff. She pressed a button on the side of Shepard’s heart monitor, pulling up more vitals in greens and oranges. “I would have thought beauty rest was your priority number one.”

Miranda barreled straight through.

“All of that time and effort... and you think it acceptable to start smashing things like a child.”

Finding herself in a circumstance that clearly _begged_ for a reaction, Shepard said nothing. She kept her gaze fixed on her right hand, still trying to flex her fingers against the pressure of the bandages.

No satisfaction.

Miranda sniffed, pointed the tip of her left boot upwards.

“While the Illusive Man may think one way, I—“

“Remind me again, who is the XO and who’s the commander?” Chakwas was suddenly hovering right by the opposite bedside, arms crossed and face neutral, cool. In the ensuing silence, as Miranda stared upwards with the smallest hint of indignation, the doctor angled her head Shepard’s way. “Operative Lawson, I believe my patient requires rest.”

Miranda straightened in her seat, folding her hands in her lap. She fixed Chakwas with a long look, eyes flashing in consideration, reading the room, wrestling with irritation.

“Without me,” she started, raising her chin, “you couldn’t have Shepard as a patient in the first place.”

Chakwas blinked at that, the skin of her forehead wrinkling as her brow lifted.

And then her eyes hardened. Darkened, too.

“Mm. And though Miranda Lawson may think one way, you’ll find the galaxy is full to bursting with opposition.”

While that comment traveled in the space between, Shepard spoke up.

“You’re right.”

Two sets of eyes snapped down, and for once in the short span of time since they'd started working together, Shepard could say that Miranda looked truly off guard. She looked back at her commander, who met her gaze dead on, brown for blue. It snapped the woman's mouth shut, trapping whatever rebuttal she’d prepared for Chakwas, and Shepard reveled in it more than she’d ever admit.

“It _was_ stupid of me,” she continued. “Hotheaded. Too impulsive.”

She lowered her chin, darkened her face, let her words come slower.

_No satisfaction._

“The me of two years ago would have never done anything like it. Must be some overlooked error in my hardware. Wonder where a mistake like _that_ came from.”

And she saw it then. The way Miranda's shoulders tensed and her upper lip twitched. It was the smallest start to a scowl, a grimace. Her left eye narrowed, too, for a fraction of a breath— _a tic? A visible stress tic? Where’s Miss Perfect?_ —and she rose from her chair.

“I have reports to complete,” was declared as way of dismissal, and then Miranda promptly left the medbay. Shepard stayed staring at the empty seat, at the space continuing to bristle in her XO’s pissed off wake. Chakwas turned, though, to watch the door slide open. To watch it close. The finality of it all.

When she turned back, an impressed smirk graced her face. She laughed—a single, hard _hah_ —and stepped back to her table of vials.

Shepard allowed herself a smile too, though it fell fast. She settled into her inclined pillows, fixed her eyes on the medbay ceiling, and tried bending her bandaged fingers just enough to pick at her sheets.

(Tried not to think about the healing cuts underneath.)

(And tried not to think about how pleased she’d be if any of it left a scar.)

**Author's Note:**

> now let me make it clear that i actually love miranda w all my gay heart. she and my shepard get together post-me3, & this clearly takes place before they are even friendly with each other. might fuck around & write a fic about their relationship, who knows. also, i am very disappointed that bioware isn't making any changes to the romance options, but i'll do what every gay person does and create my own canon !!!!


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